


Arcadia

by lolthefudge, tabloidsuperjunkie (orphan_account)



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst, At least Jiyong says that he's content with what he has, Everything's good in the end, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolthefudge/pseuds/lolthefudge, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tabloidsuperjunkie
Summary: Once upon a time, Jiyong fumbled and tumbled, down way deeper than anyone could ever imagine. But when his lungs almost gave up, the dark water strangled him only tighter, and strength had left him completely, one strong arm was the one that pulled him out of the darkness and saved him from the wreck he brought to himself. And it’s been the life he wants to live, ever since he savored how bitter the taste of loss was, ever since he lingered in the anguish, and especially ever since he found a way for him to rediscover his sole purpose in life.And to him, his small, lonely world is enough.It’s perfect.





	1. Arcadia

**Author's Note:**

> “No one understand the lonely perfection of my dreams. I’ve found perfection here. I’ve created it.”  
> –Alien: Covenant (2017)
> 
> This is just a(n un)popular thought about human and romance I have in general. Cross-posted from [AFF](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/edit/1292439).

 

**_“Tea?”_ **

A pair of brown eyes soon replaces the sight of beating life, hustling in a steadily fast pace below his penthouse, when Jiyong raises his head. He nods his head lightly and watches as the silhouette moves – ever _gracefully_ – towards the island. A spark of warm brown amidst his cold, stark white life; a distraction he’ll never refuse. There’s nothing but the quiet clink as porcelain lands on saucers and the soothing sound of water poured into the white cups.

The brown eyes meet Jiyong’s own once again, and the man can’t help but let the unseen strings tug the corner of his mouth. The other man answers him with a smile – a distracting speck of pink Jiyong won’t ever refuse either.

Jiyong accepts the white porcelain cup. “Thank you, Seungri.”

Seungri hums his ‘you’re welcome’ and goes to his armchair, perched across Jiyong’s with nothing but a round wood coffee table in between.

 _Perfect_ , the little voice inside Jiyong’s head tells the man, one last glance before he sips the drink. And soon enough, his vision is filled with the unchanging scenery of life expanding before his eyes. The sky is blue and the sun graces the world with its warmth – _And I doubt that these people even notice this small blessing_ , Jiyong adds while the warm, sweet taste of the tea melts into his buds. Within his vision, he sees the familiar horde of people rushing towards the same direction and flashes of shiny black streak – bullet capsules to haul those who can’t afford to lose in life’s daily rat race. The thick glass keeps the outside world apart from his, forbidding the noises from entering. Jiyong’s mind wanders once again, cutting through the loud silence beating inside his head.

“Youngbae called when you were still asleep,” Seungri’s voice seeps into his consciousness and Jiyong quietly puts the cup and saucer on the table. “Seunghyun also left a message. Do you want me to replay them?”

“Yes, please.”

The view Jiyong has been staring for quite a while is quickly swapped with a familiar face of a man. One of the very few people Jiyong can trust; someone who’s not only the one leading his company’s board of director, but also the one earning the title of  Kwon Jiyong’s best friend.

“Hey, Jiyong,” exhaustion is plain to see on Youngbae’s face, yet it doesn’t manage to get rid of the smiling eyes – the reason is probably the loud noise in the background, coming from no other than his twins who were most likely ready to go to school. “I only want to remind you – _kids, stop teasing your mom!_ – about the meeting with our potential investor this afternoon. I still wish that you’ll join us, which is absolutely a useless hope, so I’ll send the video right after the meeting ends – _Chanyeol, don’t play with your food! And Sehun, wear your pants! They’re supposed to be down there, not on your head!_ Also, don’t forget about the dinner this weekend; Seungri, please make sure that Jiyong won’t skip this again or Seunghyun will hunt him down for real. Need to go now. Bye.”

The blank black screen doesn’t last long once a different face appears on the screen; another familiar face with thick eyebrows defining the dark eyes sharply. “Kwon Jiyong, this is your daily reminder of—”

A sigh escapes from Jiyong’s mouth, followed by a brief instruction, “Stop.”

The face disappeared and the world returns before their eyes. “Seunghyun’s message is labelled as ‘important’, Jiyong.” Seungri lets out a snort of chuckle.

“I don’t care.” Jiyong waves his left hand nonchalantly, fixing his position on his chair. “Let him swamp me with messages; he’ll need to haul my dead body if he really wants me to come to his… _party_.”

Seungri still chuckles lightly; the voice blends seamlessly with the stark white silence surrounding them and sends the ticklish sensation down Jiyong’s spine. “Then you shall expect to receive the same message tomorrow morning. He’s… _determined_ to bring you to meet his colleagues.”

“Yet he still won’t hear anything from me regarding this matter. Don’t show me any message from Seunghyun as long as it’s still about the same ridiculous dinner, Seungri. Understood?”

“Copy that,” Seungri nods and their eyes meet once again. His lips stretch into a smile; one so contagious until Jiyong can’t help but also smile in return. A distraction he can never ignore, indeed. “But Jiyong… isn’t it a private party? Daesung will be there too, without a doubt. I see no reason why you should decline Seunghyun’s invitation, given how Seunghyun always wants to keep his group as exclusive as possible.”

A ‘ _beep_ ’ fills in the space as the same blue sky falls within their vision – _No_ , Jiyong’s tongue brushes his lower lip before the teeth gently trapping it, _we never see the same blue sky each passing second_. Sparse white lines adorning the nature-made canvas, dark silhouettes of skyscrapers and flying vehicles are like blotches tainting the surface. As if he’s being pulled by a strong magnetic force, Jiyong’s eyes land on the same scenery over and over again; one too familiar to him until he can feel nothing but sick of it. _Humans and their endless race against… nothing_.

“Jiyong?”

The said man turns his head to meet Seungri’s stare, eyeing him in a way Jiyong always knows what its meaning is. “That’s _why_ , Seungri,” the man shrugs while his fingers are carding through his black locks. “Daesung will be there, aside from Seunghyun. I don’t need more humans around me.”

“And that’s also _why_ you decided to build the tallest tower in Neo Seoul under the pretense of – let me quote your speech – ‘ _honoring the most inspiring, strongest, and most brilliant man who made me the way I am right here and right now: my father_ ’, so that you can finally create your own bird nest…” Seungri spreads his arms, “…up here.”

Jiyong chuckles, taking another sip of tea. “This is year 2109,” his cheeks feel warm from glancing at the expression plastered on Seungri’s face. “High-rise buildings are _not_ a wonder. Not at all.”

“But,” the other man lowers one arm as the other one reaches for one particular spot behind his right ear, “the number of human population has dropped significantly within the last century, Jiyong. If you only needed to keep a distance between you and the rest of the world, living in Coast City will do – consider the fresh sea air and sound of waves crashing the rocky cliffs are a bonus. And what about The Valley and its verdant mountain scenery? Or—”

The base of Jiyong’s cup hits the porcelain saucer, perhaps a little louder. “Seungri.”

Seungri straightens his back at once, murmuring, “My apology.”

 _Perfect_ , Jiyong tells himself. Yet, to the man sitting across the coffee table, he says, “Acknowledged.” The ticklish sensation returns, sending the electrifying sparks Jiyong rushing towards his fingertips.

“The point, Kwon _Jiyong_ ,” the man continues; both of his hands sit on his lap, “is: _why_ did you choose to live in a metropolis? Twenty years ago, _you_ should’ve known better how densely populated this area would be; after all, you’re also the one contributing to the vast development of Neo Seoul, if not the _only_ one.”

From the sharp glance Seungri shot at him, Jiyong know the man still had a lot to say. A faint smile brushed Jiyong’s lips as he waited wordlessly.

The other man takes it as a cue to continue speaking, nonetheless. “Ever since Youngbae dragged you out of your cave to present the blueprint of Neo Seoul in front of the city’s stakeholders, the quality of work and life has been improved significantly. You created a breakthrough with your idea of clean technology and utopian city. And now, each time you look down from where you are sitting right now,” Seungri’s brown eyes glimmers, “you witness how far this city has fared. Long gone was the old Seoul, once known by the world as one of the worst places to live in. Long gone was the old Seoul, populated only by the poor _or_ the rich, nothing in between. Nobody remembers the old Seoul anymore; Neo Seoul has become _the_ future, and it’s all because of a boy, who was no older than 20, inspiring the people of this city in nothing but pajamas.”

“Seungri…” the faint smile widens into a smirk and a huff of chortle escapes Jiyong’s lips. “Seungri, Seungri, Seungri… Seungri.” Sweeping his hair away from his face, Jiyong raises his head as his back snuggles even more comfortably in the comfort of his chair. “You still talk as if I were the only one worthy of all the credits. Youngbae and his family are the ones you should praise, especially Youngbae’s old man. He had his brilliant way of persuading those old farts seated on the council… and those snobs who thought that they owned the world just because they had money.”

Yet Seungri merely waves his hand, dismissing the remark. “I guess I should’ve mentioned Youngbae’s determined effort of hauling you from your room that night instead, Jiyong… I assume it was such a… _thrilling_ experience for both of you to—”

“End of flashback, Seungri,” the chuckle grows into a loud laughter, rumbling from the base of Jiyong’s throat, and Jiyong catches a glimpse of Seungri’s grin. _Perfect_ , there he goes again. “You’re lucky that you mentioned it in front of me; if it was Youngbae, he’d be sulking for days. Surely.”

“At least, you can finally tell me what actually happened that night,” Seungri flashes a wink. “Otherwise, I can’t help but always suspect that you intentionally omitted what happened that night, so that I’d never find out, Jiyong.”

Shaking his head lightly, Jiyong can feel the ticklish sensation warms his cheeks along with the small laugh escaping his lips. “I won’t tell you anything, Seungri. It’s a secret meant to be kept by nobody but Youngbae and me.” He steals a glance and sees a small pout crumpling the pair of pink lips. “Also… it happened before _we_ met, and you found out about this _thing_ only five weeks ago; if you wouldn’t mind to check back on your memory.”

“I presume there’s no need for that,” murmuring, Seungri waves his hand nonchalantly once again, yet the dissatisfaction is still plain to see on his face. “Let’s pick up where we left off… five minutes ago. Youngbae managed to take you to the council meeting and only both of you know what actually happened before – and God, probably, but none of us is a believer. The council agreed to reconsider your blueprint with the great help of Youngbae’s father and, of course, _your father_ ’s contribution to the community—”

Jiyong’s eyes dart quickly, shooting a look at the other man, who obviously seems to expect it.

Seungri knows better that he sees it coming nonetheless, yet the man only moves his head lightly while reaching for the same particular spot behind his right ear. “Once the project started and showed favorable outcomes, people began to see Neo Seoul as their utopia, an ideal community to live in. More and more people have come to live and work here—”

“Is _this_ ,” Jiyong squints his eyes as the familiar view greets him once again; a brief reminder that the world outside is still functioning the way it has always been, “even a way of live?” He can sense the sour tang the words leave in his taste buds.

“I’m afraid that you’ve cut me for too many times only in less than an hour, Kwon Jiyong. And that’s a question to answer later; let me finish what I want to say first.”

“Go on.”

Seungri nods lightly; the black fringes scattered across his forehead dance lightly. “To say that you don’t need more humans around you while living in one of the biggest, densely populated on Earth is plainly contradictory.”

“And while we’re at it,” Jiyong brings the cup closer to his mouth, emptying it out, “make sure to remember that I didn’t do everything you mentioned before for… people. I may be a former engineer, homebody, loner, geek, misfit, philanthropist, or ‘ _a humble billionaire veiled by the thick air of mystery surrounding him_ ’, according to our city’s beloved Kim Junmyeon’s ludicrous diction, from last week’s _The Gazette_. But I am _never_ a social worker.”

The perimeter of Jiyong’s eyesight captures the movement from the other chair once his empty cup meets the porcelain saucer. A silhouette blocks a part of the seemingly unending scenery seen through the glass window; when he raises his head, he sees a splash of brown and a tint of pink.

“Noted,” Seungri hums his word, leaning down to reach for the porcelain cup. “And before I go to Daesung's place: tea?”

And this time, Jiyong doesn’t keep it to himself any longer. “Perfect.”

 

*

 

 _Daisies_. Jiyong can feel his brows knitting; white petals of fully blooming flowers before his eyes reveal the bright yellow disk florets. “Daisies,” he repeats and lifts his gaze, placing the mug back to the countertop.

“Daisies,” Seungri nods.

“And?”

“Aren’t you going to say how beautiful they are?”

“They’re beautiful,” Jiyong deadpans, fingers fiddling against the cool granite surface. “ _And_?”

Seungri’s eyebrows rise and the man turns around, pouting, “Heartless.” His figure moves towards the large round wall shelf, his hand reaches for a glass. “Daisy or _Bellis perennis_ is a herbaceous perennial plant with short creeping rhizomes and rosettes of spoon-shaped or small, rounded leaves, which length varies from two to five centimeters. The species grow flat to the ground and usually colonizes lawns, hence making it difficult to eliminate by mowing.”

The only noise comes from the constant beat of Jiyong’s finger tapping against the granite surface. “Since when do you start learning about flowers?”

A smile blossoms on Seungri’s face as his figure grows closer and settles next to Jiyong. He puts the glass of daisies on the countertop, his eyes do not cease staring at the blooms in pure adoration. “Since two weeks ago, when you visited Daesung and left me in his library; the place has a great collection,” the smile lingers when he raises his face to meet Jiyong’s eyes. “I also found an old recipe book and Daesung allowed me to borrow it.”

“And have you started to learn cooking?”

“Not yet,” Seungri’s eyes return to the blooming daisies, his fingers caress the petals gently. “Why?”

Jiyong joins the man. Shifting his body closer to Seungri, his forefinger reaches for the white petals, playing them carefully; they look frail as if they’d shatter once Jiyong touches them. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he murmurs his words and Seungri’s shoulder feels firm when Jiyong rests his head on it. “Seungri was nev—”

A pierce through the heart. The silence creeps in with its thin, long fingers strangling Jiyong’s chest and clenching his heart.

Merciless.

A hand latching onto Jiyong’s waist comes along with a soothing whisper. Seungri hums, “Don’t doubt yourself, Jiyong. Don’t doubt me.”

There’s still no sound cutting through the quiet, engulfing the two silhouettes like a small bubble. Jiyong’s mind wanders anywhere yet nowhere, blankly staring at the pop of yellow. A familiar scent fills his lungs, drawing him closer to the source and he heaves a long sigh. Inside his head, he hears the sound of wind, singing a song in a forgotten language and caressing his face with its invisible hand. The color surrounding him turns into an unending span of sky blue with cotton candy clouds. A rustling noise joins in, creating a harmony nearly forgotten – the one he has to look into the corner of his memory to find.

“Is something bothering you?”

Jiyong blinks and the mental scenery immediately vanishes into thin air. Seungri’s hand, still on his waist, pulls him closer. Abandoning the glass of flowers sitting silently on top of the countertop, Jiyong buries his face in the crook of Seungri’s neck, arms around Seungri’s back and eyes closed tightly. Words escape from his lips, spoken in a hushed voice – inaudible, almost.

Seungri doesn’t say any single word, yet Jiyong can feel fingers carding through his hair, caressing him oh so gently. Whispering words to Jiyong, he says, “You can’t help it, Jiyong; changes are the only thing that remains static in this world. Life is comprised of an unending cycle of learning and you, Jiyong, among other people, should’ve known better. This is how you’ve made me.”

He knows it – Jiyong did _know_ it from the very beginning. But there’s always a clear difference between knowing and feeling it, even after all these years. It almost feels like seeing a sequel he wishes never existed, but he’s the only one responsible for its existence. It feels as close as a familiar face from the past Jiyong wishes to forget yet he can’t.

“I’ll call Youngbae and inform him that you’re feeling unwell,” Seungri’s hand is running up and down Jiyong’s back tenderly. “Although I’m sure the meeting has started anyway.”

Suddenly, Jiyong feels light. Darkness splashes inside his eyelids, welcoming him to dwell momentarily. And when he finally opens his eyes, Seungri’s features and the familiar comfort wrapping around him greet his senses at once. Seungri gives him a small smile before releasing him, letting Jiyong’s bed welcome its owner. “Wait a minute, it won’t be long,” he speaks softly. Cupping Jiyong’s face, the thumb caresses the apple of his cheeks slowly.

The figure moves to the corner of bedroom, where a large screen is mounted to the stark white wall. Lying sideways, Jiyong can only see Seungri’s silhouette, standing still before the screen. His ears catches Youngbae’s voice which fades into the white noise seamlessly.

When Seungri returns, the man walks around the bed before joining Jiyong on the empty space next to him. Turning around, Jiyong finds Seungri sitting with his back leaning against the headboard wall, his legs are stretched.

“I bought the flower from a small store I passed when I returned from Daesung's place earlier,” the iridescent brown eyes give Jiyong a warm stare, drawing Jiyong closer towards the man. “I had no idea that we could still find a florist these days. I thought the council has banned the people from growing plants for commercial purpose… or did Daesung pass a new regulation without me knowing?”

Jiyong’s head settles on the firm shoulder once again, his fingers trail down the other figure’s arm, absorbing the absence of heat through the tips. They eventually meet Seungri’s set of digits and latch onto them. “They’re probably also synthetic. It seems unlikely that Daesung would go through all the hassle only to nullify one petty matter the council wanted the former mayor to ratify.”

“I doubt that, though… The flower, I mean. Not Daesung.”

“Why?” Raising his stare, Jiyong finds Seungri nibbling his lower lip and streaks crinkling the nose.

“The flowers feel… inartificial.”

“And why do you assume it?”

“The daisies, they’re _different_ , and I’m sure you could feel it too, Jiyong,” Seungri’s forefinger taps out a beat on the back of Jiyong’s hand he’s still holding. “I know I’ve never touched real flowers except for those grown in The Park, but that’s also why. I believe flowers aren’t too different than humans. There’s the… life. Well, of course, flowers are living being, after all.”

“You know I have the whole day to listen to your explanation, Seungri.” Jiyong shifts his body, snuggling closer to the other man. The shoulder where his head rests on shakes lightly as a soft chortle escapes Seungri’s lips, inviting a gentle tug on the corner of Jiyong’s mouth.

“A curious little cat, aren’t you?”

Jiyong’s quiet laughter joins in. The air entering his lungs tastes cold. “You know I always love the way you think, the way you learn… You never cease to fascinate me.” _You’re perfect_ , yet Jiyong never says it loud enough.

“I’m aware of that, of course.” Seungri squeezes the hand as if he has always known what’s never left beyond Jiyong’s lips.

“And why don’t you start now?”

The other set of finger tousles Jiyong’s hair. Jiyong is soaked up in the touch while it lasts, relishing the fleeting moment passing along with each second spent, before the words reclaim the space once again.

“I believe flowers aren’t too different than humans,” Seungri murmurs, “because I also believe that every life has its own purpose. All living beings… they’ll never stop moving, never stop wandering. That’s why they need a driver, something to remind them what their purpose in life is. I suppose I’ve met enough people to understand this concept, and it seems like I also have an answer to your question earlier.”

Jiyong only hums, hinting Seungri to continue.

“The people outside; you ask if that’s even a way to live, being a part of crowd that doesn’t seem to know how and when to stop and keeps repeating the same routine every day. The answer is yes, Jiyong,” Seungri lifts his hand, still intertwined to Jiyong’s. “Even your heart doesn’t stop pumping in and out the blood, an endless red thread flowing throughout your body. And even when you spend days and nights inside your own nest, Jiyong, your mind keeps wondering somewhere your body cannot reach. Life is life; the way it’s translated into actions is the one that may differ from one and another.

“And the daisies I brought earlier… I saw it with my own eyes when the owners cut the stem, but the very second I touched them, it was beyond words. There was no heart, I knew, but there was _something_ beating inside its frail petals. And as I walked home with the small bouquet in my hands, I could sense how the beat turned frantic, knowing that the blooms would wither any time, losing their freshness in every passing second. It’s obvious that I’m no flower, I know, but I’m sure that losing its life in my hand is never what the daisies want.”

Another pierce through the heart and Jiyong winces, the heavy air escapes from his slightly parted lips. “Just like… humans,” the air tastes colder, scratching his lungs, “when they’re being robbed of their purpose to… live.”

“Dying passion, lethargy, and…”

“ _Death_ ,” the invisible claws dig deeper inside Jiyong’s lungs.

“Yes,” a soft kiss touches Jiyong’s hand as Seungri holds it even firmer. “A concept every human completely understands by heart.” He kisses the hand once again, a whisper on the warm skin, “ _Death_.”

Jiyong tightens his grip, feeling the tip of his fingers digging into Seungri’s skin.

“But it’s also what I find captivating about humans, Jiyong,” Seungri whispers with his lips on Jiyong’s hand, as if his words are to be tattooed on the bare skin. “You’re completely oblivious to how _beautiful_ you are, regardless of how mundane the life you’re going through every day. You do everything to give your life a purpose, to survive in your everyday struggle. You look feeble, as if a minor disruption in your life can shatter you to pieces, yet you also look as tough as an old oak tree, rooted deeply into the ground with no wind to ever bring you down. Every second in your life counts, every moment is precious. Each time you fall, you learn to rise, stronger even.”

A deafening silence stretches with the familiar images flashing before Jiyong’s eyes:  familiar faces and places, a surge of old memories buried on the furthest corner of mind Jiyong apparently cannot afford to forget even after years. And finally, one particular face lurks around the inside of his head because Jiyong has to ruefully admit that he has never had enough strength to let go. The flicker reflected on the warm brown eyes gleams like two beads of bronze under the sunlight, and a smile spreading on the lips bursts like fireworks against the tar-black sky.

Behind the closed lids, the nothingness is tainted by a blurred silhouette.

When Jiyong finally finds his courage to slip through the veil that reveals his reality, dipped in white and floating inside a small bubble, he quietly pulls his hand from Seungri’s hold and straightens his back. The headboard feels cold against his clothed body, but it’s no longer the kind of cold stranger to him anyway – the other body sitting next to him has always been colder. “And you, Seungri… what’s your purpose?”

The movement from the other side of the bed creates a quiet rustling noise. A moment later, Seungri stands straight next to the bed, his brown eyes are fixated on Jiyong. “Unfortunately, I don’t have this privilege, Jiyong. But that’s also why I’m here.” He turns, his figure moves – every step brings Seungri closer to the door across the bed. And before the panel slides closed, he merely adds, “That’s why I was created.”

 _To be perfect_ , an invisible man continues – a faceless voice echoes in the quiet chamber.

 

*

 

Jiyong captures a glimpse of Youngbae’s face before the screen turns black. A quiet thud follows when his bedroom door slides closed behind him. “Was it Youngbae?”

Seungri turns his head and once their eyes meet, a small smile spreads across his lips. “Yes, it was about the meeting this afternoon. Did you rest well?”

“Yes,” Jiyong grabs a bottled water, popping it open and then gulping the crystal clear substance down his throat. The empty bottle is left sitting on the kitchen countertop and the man strides to a large couch, plopping down into the cushiony surface. “I’m hungry now, though.”

“Should I call Kyungsoo now? It’s not too early for dinner anyway. What would you like to eat?”

The white ceiling is glaring at Jiyong. “Why don’t you cook instead?”

Seungri only sneers. “I’m afraid that it’s not safe for me to cook traditionally without supervision as for now. Besides, I haven’t told Kyungsoo regarding this matter and I’m sure a help from a professional is what I need.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Jiyong throws his gaze at Seungri, whose silhouette grows bigger as each step he makes brings him closer to Jiyong. “I think Seungri at least knew how to make simple fried rice.”

The smile on Seungri’s face grows wider, his finger touches the spot behind his right ear. “It’s still risky, though. And I’m sure that you’ve had enough for today.” Seungri sits cross-legged on one corner of the couch, his body tilts sideways where the armrest is.

Jiyong throws his body, his arms are splayed on his sides. “Any words from Seunghyun?” Turning his head to the left, he can see the tip of his fingers are only a few inches away from Seungri. _Maybe_.

The other figure lowers his head, checking the device circling his left wrist. “He hasn’t left anything the whole afternoon, but we can expect to hear from him tomorrow morning.” A lopsided smile spreads across his lips when he raises his gaze a little, meeting Jiyong’s. “But Youngbae did have something important to tell; it’s about the meeting earlier and I assume the file has been sent to me.”

A groan rumbles from the depth of Jiyong’s throat and he fixates his stare back at the glaring white ceiling. “Continue.”

“Well… as you may have been aware of, it was a meeting between Kwon Industries which was represented by Youngbae, and Tanniym Tech. The later has expressed their interest in investing in the company since last year’s World Technology Summit, where you made a rare occasion of appearing before the public’s eyes. After Youngbae declining their request for an appointment for several times under your instruction, you finally gave a nod to arrange the meeting, saying—”

“‘ _Let’s see what they want and then tell them, ‘It’s such an interesting proposal you have, but we’re afraid that we must decline your offer because Mr. Kwon, the majority shareholder of Kwon Industries, is still rich enough to fund the company._ ’ Yes, Seungri, I still remember that,” Jiyong can’t resist the grin stretching across his lips. “Omit the insignificance and get straight to the point.”

“And we shall continue as you please, Sir,” Seungri carries on, the same sign of amusement refuses to leave his face. “The point is our potential interested party wishes to put their money into one particular project only, and if my opinion would be matter to you, Jiyong, it’s a vast sum of money we’re currently talking about.”

“And which project is it?” Jiyong squints his eyes, feeling an uncomfortable tug inside his stomach upon knowing the reputation his potential investor has been holding – defense technologies and advanced weapons, not to mention all the rumors that Tanniym Tech is also behind the civil war in Arabian Peninsula that has lasted for almost 10 years. His tongue trails along his lower lip, he suddenly realizes how dry it is. And in each passing second passed by with nothing slipping out Seungri’s lips, Jiyong’s curiosity sparks a little brighter in the least comfortable way. He sits up, eyes are looking for Seungri’s brown orbs only to find them staring back at him with an emptiness reflected on the warm tourmaline-colored surface. “Seungri?”

A tiny gap grows between the lips, yet no word escapes. The spot between his eyebrows crinkles, a distasteful look is plain on his face. It’s nothing but unusual to see, and the sight tightens the clenching inside Jiyong.

“Seung—”

The streaks of frown disappear in the blink of an eye and Seungri, once again, lowers his gaze and resuming the report displayed on a screen projected by his wristband device. “Apparently, your… _past_ failure doesn’t prevent them from expressing their interest towards this project, although it’s been five years since you announced it.”

Jiyong freezes, and a burning pain starts to develop in his lower chest once the invisible hand clenching the inside of his stomach has pushed its contents back up forcefully. “Project M08-AH12,” he mutters, the name tastes bitter on his tongue.

Seungri nods curtly. “Yes. Project M08-AH12. They believe that the failure was a result of the lack of support and resource, especially financial support, because the government didn’t provide enough fund. And they believe that all of the resources they have will help achieve a success if the company… _you_ , Jiyong… agrees to accept their proposal.”

“But how—” A lump grows inside Jiyong’s throat. His digits fiddle relentlessly, clawing at the clothed thighs. “There are only a few people who know about this – even the government also keep it only to a tiny group of officials. No traces left; all records were deleted permanently.”

“We can only assume that there were those among the few who couldn’t resist to whisper words about your rare failure, Jiyong. And on the subject of the figure, it’s enough to reduce the percentage of your ownership from 55 percent to… around 42 percent. Needless to say, the other shareholders won’t be happy about it either.”

 _That’s not the problem!_ The voice inside Jiyong’s head snaps, his eyes shoot a glare at Seungri. The teeth trapping his lower lip dig deep and deeper as the surge of anxiety overwhelms him from the inside, leaving him a mind of scattered mess and clammy hands. The air feels cold – _too_ cold – burning his lungs from inside with every erratic breath he takes. His heart is drumming frantically and it feels like his chest can explode at any time.

And only one split second later, Seungri’s brown eyes filling up his field of vision; two droplets of amber rolling down from the expanse of cosmic universe… a universe Jiyong has worked so hard to create where nobody can slip in except for _them_ – Jiyong and Seungri.

Seungri.

 _His_ Seungri.

 _Jiyong_ ’s _perfect_ creation.

 _Perfect_ , just like how the arms envelop him in a tight hug and how the cold exuded by the other body, pressed against his, can always ease himself. _Perfect_ , just like how the absence of warmth and scent has become a great part of the life he built from all the remnants left in the past, from all the ruins left by the death. And _perfect_ , as in how the voice, escaping through the slight gap between Seungri’s lips and the crown of Jiyong’s head, gently whispers, “Don’t worry; we will be just fine.”

Jiyong squeezes his eyes tightly; all of his senses are absorbing the familiarity of his small utopia, letting himself give in to the force that pushes a desperate whimper out of his mouth.

“We’ll be alright, Jiyong,” Seungri’s whispering to his ear, his hand running up and down Jiyong’s back ever tenderly. “Always.” The body under Seungri’s trembles, there’s nothing but a muffled cry to fill in the silence surrounding them. Cautiously, Seungri brings Jiyong closer to him in an even tighter embrace before the two bodies fall with a quiet thud down to the comfort of the large couch. A song creeps out of his pursed lips – the one he can’t remember what the title is, yet a fragment of memory inside his head assures him that it’s what Jiyong needs.

Time crawls excruciatingly slow as if it has frozen inside the white room, yet Seungri knows exactly how many minutes and seconds have passed. The same song still echoes in the room even as the whimper eventually trails off and the breathing that comes in and out of Jiyong is no longer frantic. The body, warm and full of life, begins to relax although the fingers are still clutching at the front of Seungri’s shirt, holding onto him as if it’s the only thing that keeps Jiyong from falling deeper into nothingness.

Jiyong buries his head in Seungri’s chest; his hands tug the layer of fabric, breaking the humming. His whisper is raw and raspy, and another piece of memory inside Seungri triggers a painful wince, stinging him in the least comfortable way. “Seungri… sleep with me. Tonight.”

Seungri lets their legs tangled onto each other, not wanting to release the other man inside his arms. “Yes, Jiyong.”

Once upon a time, Jiyong fumbled and tumbled, down way deeper than anyone could ever imagine. But when his lungs almost gave up, the dark water strangled him only tighter, and his strength had left him completely, one strong arm was the one that pulled him out of the darkness and saved him from the wreck he brought to himself. And it’s been the life he wants to live, ever since he savored how bitter the taste of loss was, ever since he lingered in the anguish, and _especially_ ever since he found a way for him to rediscover his sole purpose in life.

And to him, his small, lonely world is enough.

It’s perfect.

 

**E N D**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really such an absurd piece and I hope the next chapter will help answer the question you have (if any). Proceed to the extra chapter at your own risk, of course.
> 
> Once again, thanks to K for doing everything she could before flying to live in a monastery in Kathmandu forever lol
> 
> I always appreciate sincere comment so don't hesitate to leave any. Thank you for reading!


	2. Project Name: MH08-AH12

 

**Project Status and Report Summary**

**Project #219141**

 

 **Project Name:** M08-AH12

 **Description:** Creation and development of synthetic intelligence equipped with advanced methods of making sense of its world autonomously through the implementation of perceptual symbol systems.

 **Project Sponsor:** Kwon Jiyong (Kwon Industries), Yang Hyunsuk (Ministry of Defense)*

 **Report Date:** 11 December 2104

 

**Report Summary:**

After termination of Arya, the latest synthetic intelligence-based robot developed by Ferris Tech under Ferris Enterprise, 25 years ago, the development of synthetic intelligence (which will be referred to as _synthetics_ in this report) has waned. Various factors have been claimed to be accountable for, including the significant population decline within the past 50 years. During the 2078 World Technology Summit in New Jakarta, it was decided that synthetics was no longer deemed necessary to help improve the quality of life and work, and companies and governments have been advised to replace theirs with the more traditional artificial intelligences for information processing purpose only.

However, that is yet to cease the attempts to further the creation of new and more advanced synthetics, given how the population decline has also brought certain consequences the government of South Korea perceive to be a crucial matter. Behind the remarkable achievements the government has attained for decades, South Korea is secretly facing a threat from the lack of human resources in military – despite the fall of North Korea last century, there have been words and authentic evidences supporting the slow-but-steady rise of the country’s old nemesis. In addition to that, manual labor has been a growing issue in certain regions, particularly in agricultural and fishing industry.

Initiated by Yang Hyunsuk, a representative for Ministry of Defense, along with me from Kwon Industries 10 years ago, the government of South Korea has been developing a new type of synthetic to process not only information, but also the world around it – the social sciences, psychology, philosophy of mind, everything. Ministry of Defense was to fund this project through an untraceable channel, transferred directly to Kwon Industries, who would also sponsor this project financially from my personal fund.

M08-AH12 was conceptualized with explicit designs of “what entity to create”, “what constituted it”, and “how the engineers would capture those concepts”. For instance, we didn’t simply introduce a variable named “sympathy” or “glee” as we researched emotion. There would be explanations regarding what constituted glee and sympathy in the system of the agent. Among other things, we would be required to acknowledge that sympathy and glee had objects requiring both the perception and representation of situations, including social ones, to help equip our model with these. Sympathy and glee needed to be captured in very different ways in terms of affecting and modulating learning, perception, planning and action selection, memory, and so forth; those differences needed to be depicted as well. That being said, to explain concepts underlying mind and intelligence was to replace “essentialist institutions” (the idea that normative behavior, personhood, emotion, and so on are and are done correspond to some parameter or by some module) by a “functional structure” (the idea to produce a set of phenomena associated with the corresponding concepts). And to achieve this, we also needed to create the complete, integrated systems for the nature of perception wouldn’t go with isolated properties.

For that purpose, we didn’t aim to understand intelligence as a by-product of verifying the application of a planner or the properties of certain description language. Rather, we should ask questions first and find methods to find the answers, not the other way around. This helped us to create a “big picture”, an integration, rather than specialization. This project wouldn’t be a product from patchworks of minuscule measurements, but the result of gradual improvements. Hence, the disciplines related to the methodologies should be those compatible with sketching the “big picture” as we aimed at a unified theory.

For a good synthetics, we weren’t supposed to constraint or restrict ourselves to certain methods that might not scale to seizing the more heterogeneous and richer domains (e.g.: translating an article or a book, navigating a room full of people, and so forth). This is where creating symbols for the synthetics to use should be able to generate the “appropriate meaning”. Likewise, the heterogeneity and infinitude of content the synthetics must handle to meet a mass of both evolving and conflicting demands urged the synthetics’ system to be equipped with methods to making sense of the world surrounding automatically, finding and exploiting structure within its environment. Mental consent would need to be expressed; meanwhile, the binary predicate logic reasoner wasn’t capable for the task. Therefore, the components of the synthetics’ representations must be translated into a language to capture the fluidity, richness, affordance orientation, and heterogeneity of both perceptual and imaginary content. Without abandoning the study of language, the synthetics wouldn’t be a mere passive walker.

However, this is where we failed. After all, the level of intelligence even of an insect is measured by its capabilities in representing, anticipating, and acting on the environment, rather than the number of extremities it could handle – the same thing goes for our synthetics as well. The environment has always been presenting itself as a set of dynamic patterns at our systemic interface not only for humans, but also for synthetics. In short, our universe is a pattern generator and our mind is to make sense of the patterns created, encoding them depending on the regularities our mind can find. The representation of any concept in a synthetics should be a set of hierarchical constraints of data, instead of a pointer to a “thing in reality”.

The failure occurred as the structures and details I created contained particular pre-specified ontologies and tasks in mind in a way that restricted the synthetics as virtual environments I was situated in was specified. In short, the synthetics was deprived of opportunities for it to discover and invent. In addition to that, the crafted virtual environment was too simplistic, resulting in limited real-world problems which was why our synthetics failed to react to the physical micro-world.

This led to the failure to integrate memory, perception, reasoning, and other faculties the synthetics should employ to reach its goals. After all, general intelligence, in which we strived to understand, isn’t only an ability to achieve a given goal, but also exploration. As intelligence is an answer for humans to live in a world where negotiation is demanded to serve an array of conflicting demands, an environment created with fixed tasks with pre-defined goals will never work for our synthetics. The motivation to perform an action – eating, exploring, communicating, avoiding pain, planning, and so on – arise not from intelligence itself, but from the motivational system underlying the behavior.

The failure to create an ideal synthetic has pushed this project towards its end. Project M08-AH12 is unable to perform outside the confinement of virtual micro-world in numerous testing performed within a 24-months period, starting from 21 September 2102. Considering the amount of funding required to restart this project from scratch, Ministry of Defense has instructed to terminate this project by 10 December 2104 and requested the destruction of all evidences that may link this project to them.

 

Signed by

Kwon Jiyong

 

**Note:**

* Former sponsor; compensation following the failure of Project MH08-AH12 has been made accordingly from my personal source of fund.

 

—————

 

_Are you sure you want to remove all files related to Project #219141, Sir?_

Jiyong closes his eyes, a small pause trails behind the cold voice coming from the speaker, only to be broken by his footsteps as the man walks across the room, towards a glass sliding door. The pad of his forefinger pushes six different buttons, keying in a passcode to unlock the door that opens to a dimly lit room with the only source of lighting comes from a pod installed at the center, flushing the space with the cold, pale bluish glow. A long sigh escapes his pursed lips, his fingers card though his hair, sweeping the oily strands away from his face. The familiar throbbing pain assaults his head once again – Jiyong has been awake for two days straight, and the man even barely has enough rest time for almost three months.

Each step brings Jiyong closer to the pod, his tired eyes follow the curvature of a body lying quietly inside it. He rests his hand on the thick glass shell covering the machine, observing the features, void of any expression. Two eyes are hidden behind the closed lids, long black lashes contrast the pale skin. It almost looks as if the other figure is sleeping inside the pod, yet Jiyong knows better that it – _he_ – is not.

Without breaking his stare, Jiyong reaches for a small device mounted to the glass shell, pressing a set of numbers to open the pod. The case opened, quiet noise taints the silence momentarily before trailing off into the darkest corner of the room.

“Luna?” Jiyong’s fingers interlace with the other’s own. He winces at the sting of cold piercing through his skin – _It’s okay_ , he tilts his head, _I’ll get used to it anyway_.

_Yes, Sir?_

“Be a sweet girl and wake him up, would you?”

_Sure, Sir. And about Project #219141, are yo—_

“Delete everything, but plant a copy in him,” Jiyong squeezes the cold hand before releasing his hold and fixing the front of white shirt the other body’s wearing.

 _The files are being transferred now. He’ll wake up once it’s done, in about 30 seconds_.

“Thank you.” Jiyong’s head nods once. As his heart beats faster, the man finds it a little more difficult to breathe. He takes a deep breath, filling up his lungs with air as the countdown inside his head reaches 10. By the time the air leaves his lips, the eyelids are torn open, revealing splashes of brown reflected on a pair of eyes.

The stare beaming from the orbs is cold and empty, yet it doesn’t last long once warmth finally fills in the void, casting the familiar glint on the surface. Shades of amber flicker inside the eyes, a loving smile spreads across the lips and the sight hitches Jiyong’s breath. A set of fingers tugs the front of Jiyong’s shirt – another crease to add – as if signaling the man to not averting his attention to anywhere else. It’s not like Jiyong has any reason to tear his gaze from the brown eyes staring straight into him anyway. He brings his hand closer to the face, carefully caressing the apple of the cheek as if it’s his first time he touches the other male.

“How long has it been?” The voice sounds colder than Jiyong used to hear, but it doesn’t matter at all – it doesn’t matter as long as Jiyong can get lost into the warm eyes once again, as long as Jiyong can hold his hand and have him next to him once again.

Jiyong leans closer to land a gentle kiss on the corner of the lips, and the coldness no longer surprises him. He whispers, warm breath grazing the cheek, "Welcome back, Seungri."

 

**E N D**

 

 


End file.
